


Together, Once Again

by starduster



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduster/pseuds/starduster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven't done this since the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together, Once Again

**Author's Note:**

> Probably OOC. I'm not even close to halfway through the anime yet, so bear with me if I fucked something up.

“You’re not sleeping again.”  Gintoki’s voice is unusually serious, particularly so as he lounges sprawled across the couch with a glass of that horrendous strawberry milk he likes so much in one hand and a finger of the other hand digging firmly in his nose.  With a sigh, Katsura closes his eyes and tightens his hands around the tea cup he holds in his lap.

“Is that why you invited me over here? To scold me for my sleeping habits?”

“Yep,” Gin replies, flicking a booger off across the room.  Katsura scowls. 

It’s true, of course, that he’s not sleeping.  There’s too much to do with his men, too many things to plan and prepare for, too much time spent scrambling to run from the Shinsengumi, too much time spent wandering Edo with Elizabeth in tow.  Sleeping isn’t high on his priority list.  Dark bags hang under his eyes and his mind is slowing as the hours pass but he’s got more important things to do. 

Frowning resolutely, Katsura snaps open his eyes and affixes Gin with a fierce glare.  “So what if I’m not sleeping?  I’m very busy, unlike you.”  He sips from his tea, grimacing at the taste.  Kagura had made it earlier, and it’s quite apparent the kid has no idea how to fix tea.  “What do you plan to do, anyway?  _Force_ me to sleep?” 

The moment the words leave his mouth, Katsura regrets ever uttering them. 

Gintoki has an utterly lecherous grin on his face, and he sits up and rests his head on one palm.  “Yep.  Just like during the War.” 

 _Ah._ Katsura’s face heats up at the thought, and he desperately tries to will away the blush that’s crept up his face.  _Like that._

 

It had started with somewhat good intentions, when they were angry teenagers fighting a pointless war, tired and mad and hurting and lonely.  He’d always been just as busy back then, too, always helping the medics or on guard duty or sharpening weapons or doing whatever to keep his mind off of the carnage and bloodshed and death surrounding him, and his laundry list of things to do never seemed to find room for sleep.  He remembers working himself until he was nearly sick with exhaustion, only managing to snag a few minutes of sleep, maybe an hour if he was lucky. 

Of course, Gintoki wasn’t going to let that slide.  Katsura very distinctly remembers the night Gin put his plan into action.  They’d fought a bad battle and a lot of people had died, but they’d found an old abandoned house to shack up in for the night with plenty of rooms for everyone.  It did little to soothe the aches of battle but it helped.  He remembers Gin finding him in a room alone as he’d mended some old tears in his trousers, remembers the way Gin had practically forced himself on him just to get Katsura to _stop it_ , to stop being a solider for five minutes and just _calm down._ He remembers afterward Gintoki trying to hold him only for Katsura to slither out of his grasp, pull his clothes back on, and make his way on wobbling legs back to his bedroll where he’d slept like the dead for hours. 

And he remembers going back to Gintoki the morning after and thanking him, quietly and angrily, for helping him sleep and assuring him that he’d probably need his help again.  And Gin had laughed and made some stupid comment about Katsura being his wife now and Katsura had hit him.  But in the months that followed it had become a routine, for the two to sneak off occasionally to fuck under the guise of helping Katsura sleep.  And then the war ended and they didn’t see each other for years.

It was never anything more than a mutually beneficial physical relationship.  It helped Katsura sleep and get his mind off the war, and Gintoki… well, it must have done _something_ for Gintoki.  Katsura had never quite understood why Gin had started it—surely it wasn’t just out of concern for Katsura’s wellbeing.  Was it just a need to fuck? Was it love?  There was no telling, but Katsura wasn’t going to complain.

 

“So?”  Gintoki questions, taking another swig of his milk and waggling his eyebrows at Katsura.  “Why not, Zura? For old times’ sake?”

“Not Zura.  It’s Katsura,” he mutters automatically, averting his eyes from Gintoki’s lascivious gaze and staring pointedly at his tea.  A voice whispers sweetly in his mind, that he is _awful_ tired, and Gin was such a good lay back in the day, and maybe it would be good to reaffirm their friendship.  Wordlessly Katsura stands and walks around the coffee table, standing to loom down at Gintoki, arms crossed against his chest and a look of steely resolve plastered on his face. 

“You’d better fuck me good and hard, then.”

Gintoki’s smile splits into a grin and he grabs Katsura by the obi, yanking him roughly into his lap.  “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs as he clashes his lips against Katsura’s, and their teeth clack together and it all feels _right_. 

Well, somewhat right.  Their bodies don’t fit together quite like they used to; both of their bodies have softened since the war.  It takes a moment of furious kisses and roving hands before they fall in sync, a familiar pattern drawn back to the forefront of their minds. 

Gintoki’s hands work fumblingly to slip the haori off Katsura’s shoulders and toss it off to the side, moving quickly to start working on unknotting his obi.  Katsura attempts to meet his kisses halfway but in their frantic haste most of them miss, and he sighs in a sort of relief when Gintoki finally ends his assault on Katsura’s lips and move to his neck. 

“What about, ah, what about those kids?”  Katsura breathes out, voice catching when Gintoki’s teeth scrape against his collarbone. 

“At Shinpachi’s,” Gin mumbles into Katsura’s skin, pausing to suck a hickey into the soft flesh.  “For the night,” he continues, hands slipping beneath the folds of Katsura’s kimono and traveling over his chest.  His fingers tweak and pinch a nipple, and Katsura groans as he slowly works on Gintoki’s own clothes.  “What about your duck?”

“At home with a cold,” Katsura murmurs, hands splaying over Gin’s shoulders and feeling out familiar spots where he knows scars hide. 

Gintoki snorts a laugh into his neck.  “That thing can get colds?”

Katsura swats him on the shoulder and resumes attempting to get Gin’s clothes off.   “Who _cares_ right now?” he huffs in frustration before Gintoki’s strong arms wrap around him and shove him off onto the couch.  “Hey-“

Gin stands and starts undressing, tossing clothes this way and that as Katsura watches.  “I gotta go get stuff,” he says flatly, heading off toward his room, shedding clothes as he goes.  “Get your clothes off,” he calls.

Sighing, Katsura smiles and strips out of his kimono, mind buzzing with the beginnings of arousal.  Finally bare he lies back on the cushions, closing his eyes and sliding his palms slowly down his torso, his hips twitching as his hands inch closer and closer.  His prick’s already half-hard, and he swallows heavily as his fingers run slowly across the length of hardened flesh.  A wolf-whistle yanks him out of his reverie, and he opens his eyes to Gin standing over him, naked and grinning lewdly with condoms and lube in hand.

“You’re eager,” he says gleefully, tossing his supplies onto the coffee table and crawling onto the couch, caging Katsura in with his long, lanky limbs.

Katsura frowns and averts his eyes, instead opting to reach down and grasp Gin’s dick.  “So are you.”

Gintoki just grins, leaning down to pepper kisses and bites in equal measure down Katsura’s chest.  His lips latch onto a nipple and his fingers work the other as Katsura jerks him off, and Katsura has to swallow down a groan.  Teeth scrape against the sensitive flesh and he hisses in pain, using his free hand to swat at Gin’s head.  “Hey, bastard, that hurts!”

Gintoki flashes him a stupid, impish grin.  “Sorry, thought it was a strawberry.”

 _Fucking idiot_.  Sighing, Katsura sits up and scoots backwards, splaying his legs invitingly for Gin.  “If you’re going to be stupid, be stupid somewhere productive.”  He gestures flatly to his cock, and Gintoki makes a face like he’s been asked to run a marathon. 

“Aw, c’mon—“

“Hey, you Shanghai’d me into this, the least you could do is give me a little service.” 

Gintoki _pouts_ , and it’s all Katsura can do not to give into him.  He really is too nice.  But eventually Gin sighs, mutters a petulant _fine_ , and flops gracefully between Katsura’s pale thighs. 

And then he’s grasping the undersides of those lovely thighs and pushing up, jackknifing him in half holding Katsura’s legs against his chest.  And then Gintoki’s tongue is going a bit further south than his dick, and then his tongue is pressing flat against his asshole and _god_.

Katsura moans, low and long, at the unexpected but wholly welcome action, biting down on a clenched fist to stifle his cries.  It’s _good_ , even if the thought of this kind of thing had never even crossed through his mind and honestly it’s a _filthy_ thing to be doing but when Gintoki’s tongue finally pushes past the ring of muscle all rational thought escapes from Katsura’s brain in a breathy sigh. Squeezing his eyes shut, teeth clamping into the skin of his fingers when Gin’s long fingers wrap around his cock and squeeze, fist moving slowly in time with his tongue.

“Gin, what are, ah, you…”  He’s not really sure why he’s trying to complain, considering that Gin’s tongue in his ass has turned him into a quivering, sweating mess and that he’s lying on Gintoki’s couch moaning into his fist like some painted whore.  He opens his eyes and peers down the length of his body at Gintoki at work between his legs, and Gin’s eyes flicker up to meet his. 

Something passes between them, then, something that Katsura has missed all of these years.

Gintoki finally comes up for air, licking his lips and grinning up at Katsura.  “Thanks for the meal,” he utters sweetly, and Katsura doesn’t hesitate as he kicks him solidly in the side of the head.  Gintoki just laughs, hand never stilling in its slow movements on Katsura’s cock.  “You liked it.”

Katsura sighs, sitting up and leaning forward to shut him up with a kiss.  He reaches down and takes ahold of Gin’s prick, his slow pace matching that of the silver-haired man.  Tongues clash as the kiss deepens, and Gintoki lifts a hand to fist in long black hair.  The slight pressure on his scalp is warm and familiar to Katsura, and he sighs against his friend’s lips.  “There’s not enough room to fuck on this couch,” he murmurs, separating long enough to utter the words and sip in a breath before diving back in. 

“Well,” Gintoki mutters back, “let’s move, then.”  He reaches over, letting go of Katsura’s hair to grasp the edge of the coffee table and shove it, the wooden legs screeching harshly across the floorboards.  In one sudden swift move Gintoki throws all their weight to the side and sends them tumbling off the couch onto the floor in a tangled heap. 

“What the _hell_ -“

“Now we have room,” Gin says cheerfully like it’s the smartest thing he’s ever thought of, grinning that stupid, irresistible grin and making Katsura hate him. 

As obstinately as he can Katsura rolls his eyes and flops back onto the floor.  “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you love it,” Gintoki murmurs, bending down to kiss him more intimate than perhaps necessary.

Katsura’s not going to respond to that.

Instead he extends an arm in the direction of the jostled coffee table, grabbing the condom and little bottle of lube, popping open the cap on the lube and squirting a generous amount onto his fingers.

Lube is a luxury they never had during the war.  They had spit and blood, neither of which did any good, usually leaving Katsura hurting and cringing through the act, with Gintoki moving slowly and deliberately as to not hurt him more than necessary.  But it was good enough for them then, and when the Amanto brought these personal lubricants to Earth long after they’d stopped their little midnight rendezvouses Katsura thought it was the best thing anyone had ever thought of. 

Now they could actually fuck, not just squirm against each other in the dark, panting and groaning. 

Gintoki sits back to watch as Katsura slips slick fingers between his cheeks, prodding and rubbing and spreading the thick gel around his hole.  “God, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he murmurs, eyes focused intently on Katsura’s finger as it pushes in. 

“Shut up,” Katsura hisses, taking a deep breath through his nose as his body remembers and relaxes around the intrusion.  He keeps his movements steady, steady, finger working in and out, before adding a second and stretching further, pushing deeper. His eyes flicker down to Gintoki, watching the slow movement of his hand as he jerks himself off.  Unconsciously he wets his lips, catching the lower one with his teeth as he slips in a third digit.  He curls his fingers inside him, probing and searching for that spot but to no avail with his awkward angle.  So he stretches out a foot, whacks gently at Gintoki’s side.  “Hey.”

“Huh?” Gintoki snaps to attention, sitting up straight and letting go of his dick like he’s some teenager that got caught beating it.  _What a dork_ , Katsura thinks with a sigh.

Katsura lifts and spreads his legs, scissoring his fingers to stretch his hole open wide, inviting.  “Come on and fuck me, then.”

Gintoki’s face lights up like it’s Christmas. “Yeah,” he breathes out, scrambling for the lube and slathering it over his cock.  “Yeah,” he mutters again, scooting up into position, looming over Katsura and lifting his calves to balance Katsura’s thin ankles on his shoulders.  He presses the head of his cock teasingly against Katsura’s asshole, grinning down at him in delight.  “God, it’s been so long.”

Katsura smiles up at him.  “Yeah, it really has.”

And then Gintoki’s pushing inside and Katsura’s breath is slipping out of him as he’s filled up.  He closes his eyes and relaxes, because after all these years his body remembers and happily swallows Gin up, and he lets it happen.  The burning stretch is welcome, and he can’t help the pleasured little sigh that falls from his lips. 

“God,” Gintoki groans out as his hips settle against Katsura’s and their bodies come together.  With hardly a moment of rest Katsura rolls his hips against him and moans, a wanton invitation to _move, faster, harder_.  And Gintoki accepts that invitation, thrusts long and hard into hot, tight warmth and drops to brace himself on his elbows, practically folding Katsura in half, just so he can find his lips and press hard kisses that Katsura returns with relish.  His fingers curl in rivers of silky black hair as his partner’s arms wrap around him and pull him closer, silently urging him to go _faster deeper faster faster faster._

Neither of them speak, and the only sounds in the room are the soft slap of skin on skin and their harsh breathing.  Katsura’s breath catches in his throat and he groans when Gin finally hammers into his prostate, every thrust of his hips knocking into that spot that sends shocks up Katsura’s spine and sends stars flying across his vision.  His fingers claw down the sweaty planes of Gintoki’s back, leaving angry red welts in their wake, but Gintoki doesn’t care, just drops his head to suck a hard hickey into Katsura’s neck.

One of Katsura’s hands slips off Gin’s back and slips in between them, grasping his erection and jerking along roughly to Gintoki’s beat.  It’s so, _so_ good he can hardly stand it, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes just from the overwhelming sensations flooding his body.  Sweat runs down his face, dripping from soaked bangs plastered to his forehead and trickling into his eyes but it doesn’t matter, nothing does, besides the man fucking him through the floorboards and making him feel alive like he hasn’t for years. 

Gintoki, with what seems to be monumental effort, hauls himself up back onto his hands again, thrusts coming harder and harder, faster and more irregular.  His eyes meet Katsura’s and then Katsura _sees_ it, the love shining so clearly through those piercing red orbs, and it hurts to think about so he just smiles, reaching up to rest his hand on Gin’s sweaty cheek.  Gintoki smiles and laughs, voice piercing the fuzzy silence and reverberating through the room.  He turns his head and nuzzles Katsura’s palm, and he smiles through his orgasm, as his hips slam home and stay there, as he twitches and fills Katsura up. 

His hand joins Katsura’s on his prick, and together they move faster and faster until Katsura cries out, cock jerking and twitching as he comes all over their joined hands.

They stay there a few long moments, until Katsura shifts uncomfortably at the ache in his back from where he’s been folded up and pounded against the hard wooden floor.  Finally Gintoki shifts back, gingerly setting Katsura’s legs down and pulling out.  Katsura lays motionless on the floor, chest heaving slowly as he struggles to regain his breath.  A little bit of come oozes out and rolls down his ass, but he takes no notice. 

“Tissues, tissues,” Gintoki finally mutters, standing up on shaky legs to retrieve the box where it had been knocked off the table in the trip down to the floor.  He wipes them off gently, watching with amusement as Katsura’s asshole clenches and oozes more when prodded.  “Gross.”

“It’s your come, idiot,” Katsura says lowly, finally finding the strength to sit up with a low, pained groan.  “God, why did we do this on the floor…?”  He rolls his shoulders, grimacing.  He notices Gintoki watching him, quietly and intently, and he has to look away.  “H-hey,” he stammers, pulling himself to his feet.  “Shouldn’t you be spreading the futon or something?”

Gintoki smiles.  “Yeah, sure.”

 

It feels like heaven to finally sink into the thick warmth of the futon, and Katsura sighs pleasurably.  Gintoki slips in beside him, and Katsura snuggles up against him without a word.  They never actually slept together much during the War—there was hardly ever an opportunity—but he’s not going to waste it now that he’s got the chance. 

Gintoki wraps and arm solidly around Katsura’s waist and pulls him close, dragging the comforter down over them.  He sighs, fingers carding through long black strands.  “We should do this more often.”

“We should,” Katsura agrees tiredly, and his hand strokes up and down the skin of Gin’s stomach.

A long silence passes.

“I’ve missed this,” Gintoki whispers, so quiet that Katsura hardly hears it.  He can hear Gin’s heartbeat, hammering against his ribcage and reverberating in Katsura’s ear.  Gintoki is not one to get sappy, preferring deadpan snark rather than sweet nothings.  But it would seem Katsura is the exception to his rule. 

Katsura sighs, cranes his neck up to look Gintoki in the eyes.  “I know.  I have too.” 

Another long silence. 

“You can say it, you know.  I know you’re thinking it,” Katsura murmurs, one hand seeking out Gin’s and lacing their fingers together. Well, a little intimacy won’t kill him.

Gin laughs, and it almost sounds bitter and sad.  “I could never.”

“Yes, you could.”

“I love you.”

 _There it is_.  Katsura smiles against Gintoki’s skin, closing his eyes and snuggling closer.  His fingers squeeze Gin’s tightly, and Gin squeezes back. 

He can’t say it back, not yet.  But it’ll come.

He’s happy enough to wait it out.

**Author's Note:**

> I started out wanting this to just be a fuck-buddy thing, but I'm such a massive fluff fag that I couldn't do it.


End file.
